


paint me a home

by AssyEr



Series: The Mechs But They Are Trapped In This Reality To Pay For Their Sins [6]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Meet-Cute, TS saves the day, and makes friends, and with clandestine i mean they practise instead of being in class, focused on TS here, no beta we die like men, the mechanisms are a clandestine band, ts joins the group, well almost the whole group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssyEr/pseuds/AssyEr
Summary: How TS joined the mechanisms
Relationships: Ashes O'Reilly & The Toy Soldier, Drumbot Brian & The Toy Soldier, Gunpowder Tim & The Toy Soldier (The Mechanisms), Nastya Rasputina & The Toy Soldier
Series: The Mechs But They Are Trapped In This Reality To Pay For Their Sins [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864471
Comments: 10
Kudos: 67





	paint me a home

They were already there.

That’s how TS realized it had arrived later than it should have. The first clue had been the door that lead to the area below the stage, which was unlocked even though it was the only one supposed to be down here at the time.

(it decided not to think much about how they had managed to open the door, and just be glad that it hadn’t disappointed them)

(even though they didn’t know it was there to unlock it in the first place)

The second one, and the most obvious, was the music coming from their room, as the band had already started playing.

The basement had two rooms. In the smaller one TS spent roughly five hours, divided on three days, per week, covering it with newspaper paper and painting props for the school plays. Mr. Brown, the man in charge of everything drama related, had trust it with a key for itself and permission to go down there whenever it wanted, as long as it got everything ready on time. Ms. Blue and Mr. White, its teachers on Art and Orientation had agreed to lend Mr. Brown their class time, as long as TS didn’t fall behind.

That was jolly good for it, because it enjoyed the breaks from its classmates those hours provided. It’s not that it didn’t like them, but they could be very loud and noisy sometimes. So, yeah, the silence was nice.

No, not silence, it corrected itself while entering its room (very discretely, and careful not to alert the musicians next door of its presence). It doubted that, since it gained its new neighbors, it had enjoyed more than a few minutes of it. Peace was a better fitting word.

It enjoyed the music they played, and the stories too. Because they also told those, in songs. They didn’t have many tales, only one or two, but that was alright because TS was pretty sure those were composed by them. Which was brilliant. It certainly made it feel special, to get to hear them.

TS started to pick the brushes and the paint cans. As it kneeled to start (it was painting rocks now, dark and covered in moss), it realized they were playing one of their originals, “Old King Cole Had A Brutal Soul”. As it had no way of asking for the titles, it called them by the first verse.

The colors with which it painted were its favorites, the music was nice, and it was looking forwards to two hours of this.

Yes, TS felt happy.

By next week it had already finished all the rocks, which was kind of sad, because it was its favorite part, but it still had plenty of work to do.

It paused for a bit, contemplating its next move. It should really get on with the sun, but it just. Hated the colors so much, it was going to be a pain to the eyes. On the other side, it still had some trees, which would be much nicer.

Remembering that it had packed something to eat on its bag, it stretched to grab it and get the food out. Half a sandwich, and some homemade cookies.

TS liked to eat, tough it had made those cookies for its friend.

(friend might be stretching it. They had talked a couple of times)

Brian had been kind to it, and approached it whenever he saw it to at least say hello. It knew that he liked chocolate chips ones, because it saw him eating some one day, so it decided to do a pantry?, in case it saw him today. He was always nice, and it wanted to show him it appreciated it.

Tough Brian had friends now. He was part of the group that had been kicked out from the drama classes last semester, and he seemed to be doing great. Maybe he wouldn’t want its cookies?

No, he would. Who wouldn’t want cookies? And they were homemade. Everybody told TS its cookies were delicious. There was nothing wrong with offering.

Besides, Brian was nice. Yes, he would appreciate the gift.

In the next room the band was playing some popular song, but there was no one singing. Which was strange, but not so much, it supposed. Maybe their singer had gotten sick, or just didn’t feel like it.

It wished it could be braver to go and present itself. Try to make friends (it could use some of those), make them aware of its existence, tell them that it enjoyed painting with their music. It seemed like the kind of stuff musicians liked to be told.

TS was some kind of musician, technically, it supposed. It could play a few instruments, had composed one or two songs, and its teacher said that it had a lovely voice.

Maybe it could mention them that. Ask them if perhaps they needed a new member, or if they just felt like playing together in some occasion. That seemed like a good excuse to spend time with them. It had tried to join the school band, the year before, but they hadn’t been very… friendly. They hadn’t been mean, or anything like that, it’s just that it was the only new one, and they all knew each other, and it was its fault to try to force something like that. It had ended up feeling guilty for taking space, and quitting after a month.

But they were less people, and it could befriend them. It believed so.

Some day.

The day had finally come.

Not the day for it to talk to the musicians next door, no. TS was still very, very shy, mind you, and had yet to find the courage to go nock and present itself. No, this day was the day the sun had to be painted, which sucked.

Unlike the trees, and rocks, and everything else it had done so far, only the brightest colors would do for it, and a lot of yellows. It’s not that it didn’t like bright tones, while they were not its favorites, it had been known to appreciate them now and then. But getting shades of colors like yellow or orange was a lot of work, as it was easy to get them a bit too dark, and incredible hard to get them back to what it wanted.

Besides, it was weird to look up after painting for too long. The world suddenly seemed darker, and sometimes (tough this was probably because of the smell of the paint, but it liked to blame it into the colors, because it could) it felt dizzy.

It sighed, looking up. At least there was only one sun in the sky. It was lucky that the earth wasn’t in one of those systems that had two, or even three stars to orbit around. That would be horrible to make props for, and it didn’t want to even begin to think on how they would make them move.

Well, unless they made some sort of play based on star wars.

But it would really, really hate it if they did.

It had never really liked the franchise, but what really got to its nerves was the representation of a two star solar system. Tatoonie’s suns were clearly shown to be of the same size, which made no sense at all. Besides, if they were to share one same orbit, they-

Oh.

It had already fucked up.

Apparently some red paint had fallen into the center of the sun, which sucked, because it would be a hell to correct, and-

No, it wasn’t paint, it realized upon examining it close. It didn’t have the same consistency, and smelled metallic.

It was blood.

Damn.

TS cleaned what it could with some newspaper, and started inspecting its arms to see if it could find wherever that blood had come from. It hadn’t been using anything sharp, but perhaps there was some loose nail somewhere in the floor, or maybe on the wall. This place did need some restauration, after all.

When it found the wound it made a face. Its mum would be crazy mad if she found it, telling it how it had to be more careful, and all that.

It was… kind of deep, it supposed. It definitely needed cleaning, because it had no idea what it had hurt with, and besides, half of it was covered with yellow paint. It loved to have little splashes of color on its body, but it was sure that the thing was supposed to stay outside.

So it left the brushes on the mug of water, and closed the paint cans before standing up. There was a water tap on the basement, luckily for it, and it had a small kit on its bag for occasions like this one. It grabbed it, and went to clean the cut.

Or it tried to, because as soon as it opened the door, it found itself no longer alone. There, holding a no longer closed door (the only other door in the room), was the principal.

The man seemed angry. TS felt pretty confident assuming that it was because of the students playing music without any sort of authorization or right to be down there. Before it could say anything, he cleared his throat, surprising the teens in question who froze at the interruption, music suddenly forgotten.

They… TS knew them. They were the guys who had been expelled from drama earlier that year, Ashes, Tim, Nastya, and Brian.

Brian! Brian was there!

Oh. Brian was there.

About to get in trouble. Yikes.

Before the principal could say anything, and because it didn’t want anybody (but particular its friend Brian) getting in trouble, TS stepped in. “Mr. Green?” it said.

All eyes turned on it. The others probably had no idea who it was, but Brian seemed… betrayed?

Did he think the principal had come because of it?

The man in question looked surprised at hearing its voice, clearly not expecting it to appear. “TS?”

The realization that it had no idea of what to say came to it, and it wished it had thought a little more before deciding to step in.

It needed to say something, fast.

(oh god everybody was looking at it)

What was it going to say?

“I… is there something wrong?” it decided to play dumb, if only because it felt very true at the moment, and it had no other strategy.

(everybody was looking at it why where they looking at it it had no idea either what it was doing either)

At least it wasn’t the only one lost in the interaction. The principal blinked once, officially joining to the larger-than-it-should club of people who had no idea what was going on. “Nothing to do with you, don’t worry. I know you are helping to paint the props down here, but,” he looked back at the other group, who hadn’t even let go of their instruments yet. “You all aren’t supposed to be here.”

TS chimed in again. “It’s my fault, sir!” it said, because it was what people always said on the movies. If only it knew how to continue with the statement.

Mr. Green seemed even more confused now. “It is?”

“It is” it hurried to say, trying to form some sort of excuse. “I… I needed help with the props, because they were quite big, and I didn’t want to get behind schedule… sir.” TS added. It… it might work. “I didn’t think Ms. Blue would care, because she said that this also counted for her subject. I was going to tell her but… I think I forgot. I’m sorry sir, I should have remembered, it’s my fault.”

The little tears it felt were about to fall from its eyes had nothing to do with acting, and everything to do with the fact that they were all just, staring at it. It was terrified, hands trembling and a knot on its throat.

“I’m sorry” it repeated, for good measure.

At least the principal seemed uncomfortable. That was good, right? If he was uncomfortable, he would want to leave.

God, let this work.

Brian was looking funny at it behind Mr. Green.

“I… its fine, TS, to forget is human, but you do understand that I don’t see much work being done here, do you?” The principal said, skeptical.

It actually had a convincing lie for that!

“We just finished, sir!” it said, animated. “I can show you if you want. I think the trees ended up jolly good, if you ask me!”

He seemed… to believe it. Sort of. He turned to the musicians. “And why are you still here, then?” he accused.

Ashes, who was much better at lying, stepped up. “The rest of the class is solving a test,” they said. “We didn’t want to bother, figured that we might stay here ‘till they are done”

That wasn’t entirely untrue. They were supposed to be doing that same test, tough. Not that it mattered much, anyway. The teacher had already told them that they had failed the subject, except Brian, who had good enough grades that he didn’t actually need to take it.

Mr. Green looked at everybody for a long while, trying to find some sort of guilty expression, or anything that he could take advantage of. This was unlikely, as everybody in the place were experts on bending the truth.

“Sir?” asked Brian, upon the long silence.

“It’s fine, you can stay” he finally said. “But don’t forget to talk to Ms. Blue later”

He waited until they all nodded at him before turning around and going back above, leaving the teens alone once more.

“Well that was close” said Tim behind TS, who was still looking at the door the principal had exited on. “Anyway, the fuck are you doing here?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s a good question” pressed Nastya, crossing her arms.

TS still wouldn’t turn around.

They were all looking at it, knowing it was there. Expecting something from it. It hadn’t yet gotten over the scare of having to lie to the principal and it could feel their gaze upon its back, trying to drill the truth out of it.

It didn’t know what to say.

Its knees and hands were properly trembling now. Its breath speeding, even though it felt as if the air could barely pass to its lungs.

It didn’t know what to say, and they wanted it to speak, to explain.

It didn’t have any explanation.

What was it even doing here?

That was not how it was supposed to happen.

They were looking at it, expecting him to talk.

It didn’t know what to say, it didn’t know what to say, it didn’t know wh-

There was a hand on its. It was Brian, who was now besides it. He was looking at it with a concerned expression, trying to form a smile to reassure his friend. “Are you okay? He asked it.

TS realized it was crying, but it couldn’t stop now, not even to answer. It shook its head at him.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s going to be okay,” He opened his arms a bit, a small offering.

It took it, throwing itself into his arms. It might regret it latter, but it felt very nice, and besides it was glad for the opportunity to hide its face from the rest. Tough it was probably a bad move, because damping someone’s t-shirt with tears wasn’t a very kind thing to do, and it didn’t want to be unkind to its friend.

Brian didn’t seem to mind.

“So, you like our songs?” asked it Ashes, sitting beside it.

After all the emotional tourmaline, which basically consisted on Brian hugging TS until it felt calmer and ready to talk, the wound on its arm gained the spotlight once again, which is a kind way of saying that the whole room freaked out at seeing an enormous blood stain on Brian’s back. It hurried to assure the rest that it wasn’t anything serious (by its definitions, which may or may not be the standard one), and that it didn’t need to be taken to the med bay. TS probably knew more than the nurse there about first aids anyway, and it already had its kit ready to proceed.

Then, sheepishly, decided to explain that no, it wasn’t feeling pain, and that it actually couldn’t feel much on most of its body. It was scary, because it didn’t know how the others would react (had it ever explained its condition to someone without its parents present? It couldn’t remember), but they seemed just glad that it wasn’t suffering or anything on that line.

They offered help, in fact, and it turned out to actually be useful. Nastya knew a thing or two about taking care of cuts, and with its blessing took the reins on wrapping a bandage on the young person, while the rest chatted with it a bit.

Which was another thing! They had been talking! They were all friendly with it, and hadn’t been weirded out by the fact that it had been practically hiding from them. There were no comments, save from some joke Tim decided to make (“Well, that would explain why I didn’t see you around”). The rest, apparently more used to his low quality humor, voiced their opinions, sans TS, of course.

(TS actually thought it was a bit funny)

(It also had the impression that the rest seemed amused as well, if not for what he said, then for the insults exchanged, the rest of the interaction)

“I do! They are great, and very nice to paint to. I sometimes can’t stop myself from singing along” it commented, dangling its foot in the stool it was sitting on.

“You sing?” asked Tim from the sofa he was lying on.

“Yeah,” TS said. It was pretty sure that actually counted as bonding, which helped to enlarge its grin. “I also play the lyre, and the mandolin, the guitar, and I’m trying to learn a few more”

That seemed to pick Ashes’ attention. “You know,” they started, “we could do with a few more instrument in the band”

“Yeah,” added Tim, sitting up and looking at its direction. “We could do an audition!”

It barely contained from holding its hands together in delight, remembering that one of its arms was being held by Nastya. “We could?” TS grinned.

“Only if you want to,” Brian was quick to add, just in case.

“Oh, yes,” said Tim, standing up in a quick motion, apparently fully on board with the plan. “I have my guitar right here”

He practically shoved the instrument into it, his face really excited for the prospect and completely ignoring Nastya’s curses, who was just finishing with the bandage. Brian for his part seemed about to interfere, and TS reminded suddenly that it was supposed to say something. “I sure want to, old bean!” It stood up and stepped aside to the side of the room, to have more space. “What should I play?”

“Whatever you want” said Ashes, reclining on their seat and crossing their arms, giving TS their whole attention. “Show us that you are worthy” they half joked.

As soon as they said those words, TS knew exactly what song it would play. It was a test, after all, a trial.

It was better played with a lyre, on its opinion, but a guitar would do. TS took a deep breath, and started playing the firsts notes.

_“I’m not a gambling man…”_

**Author's Note:**

> Next one is either Brian (again) or Tim's turn. I wish i could say when but im a disaster im sorry.
> 
> I actually did some organization! if you are curious about the gang and what i decided for their mechanisms, i put it in the series description, tough its still to be updated. If you have any suggestion let me know!
> 
> Also, TS is precious and cooks for its friends.
> 
> Thank you for reading! if you feel like leaving one, kudos and comments feel like going to sleep on a hot night with the fan on, creating the perfect temperature and background noise.


End file.
